A Toy For The Trickster
by bitterasblood
Summary: He gathers, he hunts, he trains he owns. Loki is tired of the women of Asgard, so he hunts elsewhere. Midgard proves far more fruitful, but is his new prize all that she seems? (Loki x OC Rated M for Adult Content. Shameless BDSM themes including chastity and abuse.)
1. Beginning

1

**A Toy For The Trickster**

I hailed a London cab and threw myself into the black tin can before any other punters could get in my way. The sound of blaring horns and mindless chatter were dimmed as I shut the door. I peered out of the rain stained window at the bleak sky. The weather was fluctuating and a storm was brewing. I was a private lawyer for London's top firm and as soon as hit the leather seat of the taxi, I shook the water off of my briefcase, off of my skirt and my glasses. I slid my Blackberry out of my pocket and scrolled through the extensive emails and reminders.

"Where to love?" the taxi driver looked how I felt. "Lensbury Avenue, Imperial Wharf please." He nodded and I smiled; "Thank you". The journey took around twenty minutes and in that time, the heavens opened, thunder growled and lightning lit up the streets flying by. I looked at my phone and the screen began to crackle and break up with all the interference. I looked up as the taxi driver thumped his dashboard as all the lights went out. We pulled up outside my apartment block just in time as the engine failed. The driver groaned and smiled sadly as I opened the door; "Love, don't worry about the fee, go and get dry" I nodded my thanks and ran. Within seconds I was soaked through. My hair was plastered to my head, my shirt was sopping and my frozen hands fumbled with my keys. I turned as I heard one more rolling crack of thunder. I gasped as what looked like a thundery rainbow shot through the sky. I shook my head, convinced I was seeing things. I pushed open the door of my eight bedroom penthouse. My home was immaculate. Even though I only lived in two rooms, at the time place was avaliable and within my price range. My job paid well and this penthouse was well within the millions but I'd worked hard for it. The door opened, and as I stepped over the threshold lights flickered on. The space was open, clean. Leather sofas, vases of flowers, and a 'new' smell. I kicked off my heels, placed my briefcase down and began to strip on the way to my room. My skirt fell, along with my soaking jacket and my shirt. I strolled through the ribbon curtain that framed my bedroom. Then I stopped. My bedroom was in darkness, but something was wrong. The air smelled faintly of metal, the atmosphere was charged. My footsteps were silent as I moved. I reached my bed when suddenly my shadow glowed green around the outline and I saw a pair of curved horns on the wall. I hand was placed over my mouth as I screamed and another hand was shoved down my underwear as I struggled. I stopped dead as a voice, soft as silk, hard as iron and as cold as ice murmured in my ear.

"Daughter of Midgard, I am Loki, God of Mischief. And you? You are my plaything..." I stopped screaming, rationality breaking through. I snarled and kicked my foot back into his groin. He grunted and his grip loosened. I fought free and turned to face the stranger. His helmet was most comical to me, it was golden and long curved horns almost brushed my ceiling. His face was thin, pointed and angular. His eyes were of an indescribable shade. From his shoulders down to his black booted feet his was a mix of gold, green and black. He looked like a character from a fantasy novel. His language, the way he spoke, and what the hell was 'Midgard?' He watched me intently. With every breath and movement of my shoulders he shifted his weight as if to say; "You run? I'll catch you." I knew how to deal with attackers, I lived in London. But this man? He was different. I knew something was wrong. He wasn't just a man. He was more, so much more than that. I opened my mouth, expecting the cool tones of a professional business woman to flow from my lips. Instead, I stammered, suddenly realising how utterly terrified I was.

"So...y-your name is Loki?" A cruel smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"You are correct. But I am a Prince, a God. Kneel." I found myself laughing at the hilarity of what he was saying. But that laughter was cut short as his sheer strength pushed me to my knees. I tried to fight but he was too strong. I shouted, screamed till my throat was raw but nothing stopped him. Finally when my energy was spent I went limp in his grip. My knees burnt from rubbing against the carpet, tears of distress pooled in my eyes.

"What do you want with me? Who are you?" All I got was a cruel laugh. He got down on one knee to face me, lifted my chin up with one slender finger. His words were sharp as he spoke; "I am Loki, son of Odin Allfather. I come from the realm of Asgard to search for mortals like yourself. But why do you need these words? I do not answer to you puny Midgardians. You are mine. And there is no choice." He crushed his lips against mine. I refused to kiss back, fear freezing me into place. He pulled away and grabbed my throat. "You **will** yield." I had yet to notice the staff in his hand. The tip glowed icy blue as his grip around its length tightened. My eyes widened as the blood supply to my brain began to ebb. He pointed the staff at me and my world went black. The last thing I remember? A flash of blue and this stranger's cold, cruel laugh.


	2. Teach

2

A Toy For The Trickster

I wondered in dream land, my head filled with fractured, broken segments of the stranger. Gold glittered, green so vivid and black so dark the night was no match. In the distance I could hear his foot tapping on the floor. I shifted my body to turn and face my dream. My brow furrowed as the clink of chains lapped at my conscious mind. I turned again, twisting my wrists. The metal burned deeper through my sleepy haze and suddenly I was slammed into reality. Shackles held my wrists and ankles. I was laid on a metal bed, with nothing but a thin mattress caressing my fragile form. I thrashed my head from side to side, trying to escape, even though I knew I was trapped. I strained my neck to look down at my naked body. I was pure, untouched by any man. Not a scar marked my skin, no blemish, no bruise. Then I heard the tapping. He was there, the horned stranger in the corner of the room. I suddenly noticed the chill, watching goosebumps ripple my skin. My nipples puckered and I shivered, making my chains clink. The stranger stood, the scrape of his metal matching mine. I tried to scream, to say something but my throat was raw. He smiled at my rasping sounds of confusion.

"Do not be afraid innocent one, I will not hurt you. Yet." He stood over me, taking a step onto the bed, the metal creaking. His legs were either side of my waist and he raised one hand, and twisted his fingers in the air. I felt the moisture gather around his finger and the magician trails water droplets off of the digit into my mouth. My dry tongue welcomed the cool water and my cracked lips were soothed. I looked into my captors eyes and saw an emotion I wasn't expecting. Pity. But it only lasted for a second. Then he was back. The stranger I'd seen and the viciousness in his eyes. He spoke very little as he knelt on me. The weight of his armour made my chest constrict. He kissed me. Hard. I bucked and writhed against him, desperate to get away. But in the back of my mind I wanted...more?. He broke apart from me and laughed again. He got off me and stood by the side of the bed. He stroked down my body, his nails digging hard into my skin. Vicious red lines flushed up and I whimpered in pain. Suddenly he moved back up to my face and slapped me hard, laughing repeatedly. I cried out, tears springing to my eyes. His hands wondered down my body. I gasped, my breathing ragged as his fingers probed in-between my legs. I was dry, unprepared for a man and frustration made the blush burn into my skin. Within seconds his fingers wormed inside me. I cried out for him to stop. I'd never been with a man. I was a virgin. Everything was stretched and ripped. I screamed in pain, stars exploding in my vision. He stopped and looked at me, his brows furrowed. Then he smiled.

"You are pure. Untouched. Now the question is, am I gentle? Or am I rough." Whilst he spoke his fingers continued to hammer into me. Thick, fat tears rolled down my cheeks and I nearly passed out with pain. I hadn't wanted this to happen; I didn't want any of this!

Then, slowly, gently he removed his fingers. He bent his head and gently ran his tongue over my sorest parts. He whispered something, inaudible to me and the pain vanished. In its place came wave upon wave of exquisite pleasure. He was knelt over me again, his fingers caressing my folds. I groaned, flexing underneath him as he buried his head in my neck. After a few moments, I stopped. Everything froze as pressure built, each contraction of my muscles sent shivers of ecstasy through my thighs. I gabbled into the stranger's ear; "W-what's happening? I've never felt like this...I...I..." my words broke into moans. Loki whispered in my ear; "An orgasm my little toy..." and then it stopped. He stopped. He removed his fingers, roughly shoving them into my mouth. I gagged at the unknown taste and cried harder as the new sensation was viciously removed. He pulled away, kissed my forehead and slunk back into the shadows. The last thing I saw was the white teeth in that evil smile.

I lay for what seemed like hours. My shackles were making my shoulders ache and I drifted in and out of a pitiful sleep. The pain from Loki's onslaught was murky but with every move of my thighs, the sharp sting of raw flesh reminded me of what I had lost. I cried, I screamed, I called out for help. But there was nothing. I prayed, called on every God I knew. But still, no freedom. And eventually, I sung;

"_Brave the snow, through the pillars of the pale, rest your feet, come and listen to the tales. Raise your mug, to the legends of the frost. Through our songs, they will never be lost. Tales that will never be lost...kept in the legends of the frost"_

His voice joined mine as I sung. I looked up as I heard his voice, the sound sweet and deep, like the old songs in stories. I tilted my head, our eyes locked, and as I reached the chorus, the ancient words flowed off of my tongue, a language spoken no more, and locked in myth and lore.

"_Kruziik Ahkrin Haalvut Lok, Oblaan Qostiid Rein Norok, Briinah Bruniik Sahrot Vahdin, Zeymah Mul Kendov Krin.."_

He cut across me as I drew out the last note, his voice almost hysterical. "The Song of the Giants? Where did you hear this?!"

"My Mother sung it to me as a young child. It tells a story of the soldiers made of ice...the legends of the frost..." I spoke quickly, desparately trying to please the God, but his face was angry, indifferent to my words.

"_**Do not**_ sing that song again." Unbeknownst to me, the song made Loki shiver with fear, it scared him to his core. Then he slapped me, covering the space from the door to my bed within seconds. Energy shifted in the room and in a flash of green, I was surrounded by hundreds of his doubles. Then I realised. The God of Mischief. The legends, the myths, it was all true. Then there were one of him. His bent down to my ear, placing the tip of his staff to my belly button. Pleasure washed through me and I screamed in shock. His words were venom;

"For the song you have sung, I will punish you." Cool metal slithered around my waist and between my legs. Green light covered my body and I felt a drop of water hit my cheek. I was crying. The metal tightened painfully round my waist and the pleasure continued to flow. He teased my body, tweaked my nipples, nipped at my skin and near broke me into shattered pieces. Then he vanished. I was left naked and frustrated with despair. Then I examined the contraption around my body. Intricate bands of silver and gold wound together, the seemed to move with me, breathe even. I tried to remove it, but as I flexed my hips and fought my bonds it tightened, constricting my breathing. I gasped and the edges of my vision went black as the magic deprived me of air. I realised. If I relaxed I could breathe, if I struggled, I'd die. I immediately went limp. I knew what this was. I knew why he'd teased me so. I was in chastity. I could not be touched, nor touch myself. I was a prisoner in my own body. I howled in anguish. Screaming his name again and again, to let me free, let me go! My howls were met with silence. I even sung again, to try and provoke him, but still nothing. I cried again, cursing myself for my weakness. I fell into a disturbed sleep full of broken, confused dreams. What was to become of me in the hands of the trickster God?


	3. Mine

3

A Toy For The Trickster

From the moment I opened my eyes I knew I was in a different place. Everything was brighter. I wasn't tied down and I flexed my limbs, smiling ever so slightly. My body was healed and for the first time I didn't want to cry in despair. I began to hum the lullaby as I examined the belt round my waist. It was beautiful, intricate and magical. Power thrummed gently in the air and gasped, my knees buckling as the same sensations from before flooded my body. I couldn't breathe and fell back onto the soft floor, knotting my fingers in my hair and groaning. I writhed, clawing at the metal on my body. I heard the click of a lock through my haze of ecstasy and the dark figure appeared. There was no helmet, no horns. No green or gold. No heavy armour, just clean straight trousers, his boots and a black shirt. His dark hair was slicked back making his already pointed cheekbones like razors. . He knelt down beside me as the pleasure subsided. I suddenly felt vulnerable, covering my chest and turning away. He smiled a little, stroking my bruised cheek.

"Not long to go my little one..." his voice was soothing and I turned to face him, sitting up as I did. I blushed as heat flushed through me. I shouldn't be, wasn't attracted to him. He continued to stroke my hair and whisper in my ear; "Not long my love, not long till you are ready..." then he kissed me. I got another flash of that human persona as his eyes closed languidly as his lips met mine. Passion and feeling flooded through me, his lips were tender, beautiful. I reached up to touch him, but my hands were instantly pulled down. He caressed my features, entwined my hair. This was such a different side to the man I remembered that night. He snapped the long fingers of his left hand and the metal that bound me slithered away. He stroked down my body and I froze as his hand wondered to my soft curls of hair between my legs. I tried to form some kind of sentence but nothing came. Everything was tender, swollen with arousal from the pleasure given by the belt. I trembled as his icy fingers left feather light touches across my clitoris. I couldn't help it. I reached up, grabbed his hair and kissed him, moaning loudly as I did.

He responded for a second, his lips moulding to mine but then he pushed me down again, slapping me across the face for my disobedience. I apologised rapidly, placing my hands behind my back and dropping my head. He lifted my chin and traced a circle around my neck. His lips murmured a spell, a jumble of indeterminate syllables. Something cool, heavy and metallic sunk round my neck and clicked. I reached up to stroke the ring. It was wound like the chastity device around my waist. I gasped. I had very little knowledge of the darker side of sexual relationships. Infact I was clueless. But I knew one thing, I was his now. And I wasn't getting out of here. The more defiant I was, the worse off I would be. So, by elimination it was better to be compliant. I looked up at him;

"Thank you for my collar my Prince..." he smiled,

"You are so good my little one, you are mine now and mine only. I will care for you, look after you and keep you safe. No one will hurt you, no one. But in return I expect your service. Your complete devotion to me. Are we clear?"

I nodded and as I processed the information, my eyes wondered down his body and I saw his erection press against the tight of his trousers. He smirked as he caught me staring, but he lifted my head again, looked at me and smiled.

"Please grant me one more kiss..." was all I could murmur and he did. Soft lips met my swollen ones and I melted under the caress of his hands. And then it was all over. He stood and left, waving his fingers in the air as he closed the door. Sexual exhaustion fell on me and the last sensation? Those of cool metal winding round my body. My mind filled with hazy questions as I curled up_, What the fuck...is going on?  
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	4. Anger

4

A Toy for the Trickster

_Loki_

I watched the girl sleep, tied down lightly, encased in metal and a faint bruise on her right cheek. She slept deeply – magic made sure of that. I studied her from head to toe, this pretty little thing. Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders and pale skin marked with intricate freckles that covered her bones and her face thin and angular. Her eyes were the colour of cornflowers and her lips that of summer roses. I puzzled over these new Midgardian phrases and words, could beauty really be summed up in such simple words? I had been watching her for an age, hoping she was the one. I'd found many girls, taken them, trained them but they had all drifted towards my obnoxious brother over time and my sense of dismissal was greater than ever. So I found her. She was perfect and beautiful. She was mine. I walked towards her, bending down and gripping her hair with one hand, and using the other to touch her face. I traced the lines of her pretty features and smirked as she stirred. Of course she would wake now as I called the name of the gate keeper;

"Heimdall! Heimdall! Open the bifröst!"

The girl turned her head and murmured as my voice rose but she stayed quiet, eyes barely open. I undid her bonds and lifted her into my arms. Light flowed around me and colour filled my vision, the rainbow bridge throwing us across the realms. We were sucked from Midgard and brought to Asgard in a split second and I landed flat footed in the gateway as Heimdall eyed me with suspicion.

"Heimdall I thank you."

The all seeing man replied; "You have been away for a long time my Prince – is this what you have returned with?" I nodded curtly and stroked the cheek of my little one. Heimdall stepped aside as I strode past. I heard mumbling as her blue eyes opened. She didn't notice her new surroundings for a moment, until recognition set in. Then I saw panic. I, however, stayed perfectly calm.

"Hello little one, welcome to Asgard. This is your home now." Paniced sounds fell from her lips and she shuddered, trying to cover her body.

"Take me home!" I shook my head, hushing her.

"You are mine now, you are my toy. You made a promise to me? Do you not remember?" She became angry, fighting frantically against Loki's grip, only stopping when she saw the endless drop either side of the bridge we walked upon.

"A nod is not a promise you bastard!" I laughed now, and placed the woman on her ground, gripping her by the throat and pressing my lips to her ears.

"You are mine. You can't go home now. You're stuck here, and remember what I said in your home? You **will** yield."

_Alissa_

I stared in awe at my surroundings as the handmaidens brushed my hair. The glamour, the gold and the pure beauty. The two women are silent as they dress me. The black velvet slides over my naked body, covering my chastity, covering the bands of steel around my thighs. The cuffs on my wrists and ankles are so delicate and beautiful. My hair is wound into an intricate plait that is pinned to my scalp. I turned and stared at myself in the polished walls. I did not recognise the woman before me. I was used to business suits, linen, cotton and designer high heels. Not soft dresses, elegant hair and intricate jewellery. The two women took my hands and lead me outside to where he was waiting. I refused to bow, despite the custom of this strange place;

"My _Prince_. I hope my appearance pleases you..." I spoke with venom and sarcasm in my voice, but all Loki did was laugh softly. He clicked his fingers and pointed to his side, like I was a dog. I'd been threatened with a violent punishment if I did not let the handmaidens dress me, and tend to me though, so I allowed it to happen. Loki had brought me here on the night of his Brother's birthday, he wanted something to show off. He wanted a prize, arm candy. I'd be damned if I was going to be anyone's arm candy. But, against my better judgment I stood beside the strange man, walking with him, following his steps. Despite my defiance, I wasn't going to get to go home, if I wasn't obedient.

"I'm not your fucking lap dog Loki." my words were barely audible, but...

The Prince paused, emerald eyes flashing at me in anger, not amusement this time. That same pleasure washed over me at the curl of his hand and I gasped, staggering in my gait, and stumbling to the wall.

"If you speak to me in that tone again, I will beat you until your body is the same colour as a frost giant. Are we clear?" I would never admit it to his face but Loki scared me. No, he terrified me. Threatening me whilst my whole body trembled with pleasure and full of enough fear to make me sick, he was cruel. Like the last time, the pleasure vanished, but the fear remained. He began to walk again, and I had to follow. I had no choice.

The doors to the main hall, swung wide, and I was in awe. Asgard was beautiful, this place was beautiful. All the eyes turned to me and Loki and I didn't feel self conscious, I felt beautiful. I walked confidently, despite the customs to stay by Loki's side. The Prince pulled me back for a moment, snarling in my ear.

"Remember whose you are." I ignored Loki, taking the room in, taking the beautiful people in. They glowed, they were exquisite to gaze upon, this was all…so perfect. I turned my head, gazing up at the thrones, and stood by a woman who looked like she held all the wisdom in the world was a man I recognised, his presence was enough. Thor, the God of Thunder. Blonde, tall, broad, strong, and the famed Mjolnir gripped in his hand. Loki moved beside me again, gripping my elbow and guiding me to stand by his throne, which I did. My eyes flicked to Thor, and I couldn't help but blush as the blonde haired God gazed at me.

The evening went well, I drank, danced, and enjoyed myself, despite Loki's growing rage. Yes I was pushing him. Yes I was making the God angry, I wanted to see what he could really do. He thought I was meek? He thought I was easily 'won over'. Please. So I danced, and as Thor moved towards me I welcomed the God. I bowed to him, I was gracious, kind and polite. I saw Loki nearly go green with envy. As the guests faded away to their beds, Thor and I carried on talking, and I took delight in his kindness, he was such a contrast to Loki. Cocky, big headed, but genuine. Suddenly a sharp grip on my hair made me stop dead. Loki had grabbed me and dragged me backwards.

"You think it is acceptable to treat me this way? You are mistaken little one. I thought you were different." I kicked backwards, slamming my foot into Loki's shin, and he let go. I near screamed at the God, words lost on me with anger.

"Different? I'm different, Loki. I'm not someone you can push over, someone you can control, not without a fight." With that I ran, turning down Thor's company, and running away from a furious, furious God. I ran until I found my room again, shutting the door, bolting it, and desperately trying to move the dresser to block the entrance but I couldn't. I heard Loki's footsteps, he made the walls shake, and now, now I was truly scared.

_What have I done?_


End file.
